


And from the commonest creature pluck a glove

by TheShadowsAreNotWatching



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Heteronormativity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShadowsAreNotWatching/pseuds/TheShadowsAreNotWatching
Summary: So there are somethings money can't buy.(Or write the gay Taryon fic you want to see in the world)





	And from the commonest creature pluck a glove

              Tarry had so many things. They were good things. Nice things. He read in his books trite little aphorisms about the joys of materialistic goods, but he was of the opinion that a life worth living needed things. He had a cool rod that turned into other things, copious amounts of money, and _Doty_. A weapon, a resource, and a friend. Everything an adventurer needed. (At least, according to the books)

              Well, he had most things that were in most books. In the books, heroes always had mementos. In _Sir Arthur Stoya,_ the brave knight had a favor of his ladylove, a silk embroidered handkerchief. In _Arizona Smith and Rumination’s Church,_ the brave adventurer had a token of his girl back home, a locket with a portrait inside. Even in _Aboleth Invaders From Other Planes!_ the hero had something; a lock of hair to symbolize a promise to come back home.

              Only now, a continent apart from his father could Tarry allow his mind to dredge up Lawerence. Which, of course, did not mean that Taryon hadn’t been remembering Larry. Even without his permission, Taryon’s mind brought up memories in the dark of night. He turned over snatched moments until his mind smoothed away all the wrinkles, memories reduced to fragments of smooth pebbles.

              Taryon had no ladyloves nor girls back home nor sweethearts. Taryon’s silk handkerchief did not come from Larry. Taryon had no portraits of his tutor and he doubt the man had ever sat on one in his life. The only loved locks he had were his own gold ones, immaculately brushed by Doty every night. But, he supposed, he did have a promise.

              A promise—a foolish thing. Even when Taryon was young and naïve, he didn’t believe what Larry gave him. Wise, he supposed, as nothing ever came to fruition. What would be worse: Larry never coming back for him as he swore because he was dead or Larry never coming back for him because Larry left? Maybe his father made Larry swear _him_ a promise, made Larry swear to never see Taryon again if Larry wanted to live.

              Maybe his father just killed him.

              Not that it mattered! Youthful discretions were best left in the past. He made a mistake and he would not be making it again. After all, he was an adventurer now!

              (And adventurers spent their time wooing ladies and stepping over thrown lasses, they don’t spend their time remembering strong hands tucking hair behind ears and what it felt like to lean up into a kiss with a man.)

              (And Tarry’s an adventurer now.)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted gay Taryon fic. None appeared over the weekend. As offering to the fic gods, I wrote something super quick and super short as appeasement to the great deities. It's no burnt pig, but it'll have to do. I'll write something more on the subject of Taryon vs the Forces of Heteronormativety when I actually have a plot.


End file.
